


Charity

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Christmas, Families of Choice, Gen, Humor, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elsa's niece witnesses a mugging, Sam gathers the gang to track down the seemingly-bad Santa...only to find out that the guy's got bigger problems than they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ione/gifts).



> Your prompt made me consider what it might have been like for the gang to grow apart in a natural, organic way while still doing missions. Thus, this treat is a canon AU in which half of season six and all of season seven never took place. Hope you like!

Christmas in Miami was an odd affair. 

Sam pressed his nose to the window of an upscale jewelry store and scanned the contents of the storefront before rejecting what he noticed and moving on. No matter how many years he spent in Florida it still didn’t feel right to go shopping like this in warm weather. There ought to be snow, his breath should be puffing out from his lips in white, billowing clouds. He shouldn’t be sweating through his tropical shirt in mid-December, sipping on frozen margaritas while women wearing bikinis rollerbladed by, but this was his life now. He’d stopped in front of the Williams Sonoma to consider buying an ice shaver when the object of his thoughts popped up on his caller ID.

“Hey, Els,” he said. 

“Sam, can you come home?” 

He was put on instantaneous high alert by her tone. He hustled toward the car, his hand inching toward his front pocket for his keys, knowing his gun was tucked safely into his waistband. “What’s going on?”

“It’s my niece. She was at her scout troop’s Christmas Party. They hired a Santa this year, and the girls were so excited. Apparently after he got done spending time with the kids he robbed the troop leader’s house. They’re all a little shaken up, but he took every last cent they had in the house, which means they won’t be able to drive to Orlando to watch the tree lighting ceremony.”

“Santa stole their money?” Sam could only shake his head. He’d heard of some lousy criminal acts in his time, but his about took the cake. “I’ll be right there.”

****

By the time Sam arrived things in Elsa’s penthouse had calmed considerably but he could still feel the anxiety in her frame. And, of just as important note, there was a tiny child sitting in the middle of it, looking dwarfed by the purple padded luxury surrounding her. The little girl was tiny and blonde, and she had Elsa’s eyes and her nose. She was crying, and there was no sight that could have moved Sam more.

Elsa pecked him upon the cheek and led him toward the couch. He knelt.

“Audrey,” said Elsa gently. “This is my friend, Sam. He’s gonna ask you some questions now, okay? If you need anything I’ll be right in the kitchen.”

Audrey nodded her head, sniffling quietly – she raised her eyes to meet Sam’s. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sam said. “I heard you met a mean guy who said he was Santa Claus today?” Audrey nodded her head. “Can you tell me more about what he looked like?”

“He was a tall Santa,” said Audrey, her voice quivering. “And he had green eyes and red stubble. And he smelled a lot like green gummy bears.”

The kid was as smart as her aunt, Sam observed to himself, mentally jotting down notes. “All right,” he said. “Do you know something? I know the REAL Santa, and I know for a fact he doesn’t have a red beard.”

The little girl bowed her head, tears dripping from her eyes. 

Sam winced. “Has your Auntie Elsa ever told you,” he said, “about a magical man called Chuck Finley?”

Little Audrey sniffled and shook her head, and so he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Chuck Finley,” said Sam, “is one of the greatest good guys ever. He knows when people have been mean, and he knows when they’ve been good. Sometimes he has a little trouble with the folks who fall between, but most of the time his instincts are dead-on.”

Audrey’s eyes lit up. “Like Santa Claus?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, grinning, locking eyes with Elsa. “Only he’s got a great tan and knows a couple of guys on the Marlins.”

*** 

With the little girl cheered, Sam headed poolside, where he placed a call to Michael.

“Not a good time, Sam,” was Westen’s greeting. In the background he heard soft Gaelic cursing, followed by Charlie’s shrieking.

“Sorry, am I cutting in on potty training with Charlie hour?”

“Yeah,” drawled Michael. “Fiona’s with him now. What do you need?”

“Mikey, old friend – how do you feel about helping a little kid regain her faith in Santa Claus?”

“I don’t know. How much will it be paying?” he retorted.

“Uh, we’re doing this strictly on a personal favor basis.” Sam then whispered into the phone, “it’s Elsa’s niece! Strictly on the QT there of course, Mike.”

“Got it. I can meet you at Carlitos by five. Call Jesse?”

“Already on it, Brother. Good luck with the Cheerie-O brigade.”

“We’re gonna need it,” Michael sighed. 

Sam chucked as he hung up the phone, then dialed Jesse’s number. “Bad timing, Sam, he said.

“When is it ever good timing?” he replied. “What’s up, my man?”

“I’m kinda at this lunch meeting downtown. Can I get back to you in an hour?”

“I’m meeting Fi and Mike then. I’ll call you with the deets later?”

“Yeah, all right. Take good care of ‘em.”

“Yeah, and have fun with Pearce.”

“I didn’t say I was meeting…”

“Hello, Sam,” came Dani Pearce’s voice from nearby. There was a protracted sigh before Jesse hung the phone up.

*** 

Sam approached their usual table at Carlitos bristling with nothing but energy and plans. He wanted to get justice for Audrey in the worst way.

The sight that greeted him nearly made him laugh aloud. Fiona’s hair was an untamed mane and she sported – shock and horror – a sweatsuit, and Michael’s normally pristine polo shirt had been stained by a grape lollipop in several places. “Did you guys get ambushed by the candy man?”

“Madeline deserves the rest,” pointed out Fiona. “And when this weekend ends, so will I.”

“Gotcha,” Sam said. He quickly sat down with his files and spread them out. “This is our likely Santa. His name’s Bob Michaels, and he’s been pulling the same crap all over Florida. I know a guy who works as a doorman at the Palace Hotel, and it turns out Bobby’s been busking on Westminster for the past few weeks. The management thought he was with the Salvation Army, but they say they’ve never heard of him. What say we send somebody in to find out just what he’s doing with his cash?”

“Sounds good – but which one of us is going?” Michael asked.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Well, since Fi doesn’t have the equipment…”

“…Charming,” she retorted.

“…And you’re a little too buff, looks like I’m the guy.” Sam flagged down their waitress. “One round on me, Lila.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow and glanced at Fiona. “He’s paying for beer.”

“He’s paying for beer with his own money,” replied Fiona.

Sam grinned. “’Tis the season, guys.”

*** 

Two hours later they were stationed a block down from the hotel, Sam ringing a bell and passing a cup in full Santa regalia. “Y’know, Mikey, you coulda gotten a less itchy beard. If I come back to Elsa with a red neck tonight she’s gonna start asking all kinds of weird questions.”

“I got what I could get from the costume shop with short notice on Christmas Eve. Thought you’d have a suit of your own, Sammy Claus.” 

“I did, until I got into a little dust-up with a redhead. Single moms are total beasts, Mikey, did I ever tell you about…”

“I’ve got the picture,” Michael said. “Any sign of Saint Nick?”

Sam peered around the corner. “Nada. Maybe somebody tipped him off…” he trailed off mid-sentence as an older gentleman approached. Thickly bearded, with red brows, the man was clearly several years younger than your average Santa Claus. “Think I’ve got him,” Sam said, then approached the target quietly. Putting on a full drunk act, he bumped into the guy’s pot just as he was setting up. 

“Woah! Sorry man,” he said. “Just trying to get home.”

The other guy turned his gaze upon Sam – there was a bleary hunger to his look that automatically put Sam on notice. “Hey. Gotcha.” He sat down with a low, soft huffing sound.

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Something wrong, pal?”

The guy shrugged. “Times’ve been tough lately,” he said. “Done some stuff I ain’t proud of lately.” His eyes darkened. “But I’ve gotta do it. If I don’t, my kids starve.”

Sam’s gut lurched. “Hey – I had a lucky day.” He reached into the pot and pulled out a twenty. “Be sure your kids eat.”

The guy’s eyes lit up. “I owe you man. I owe you so much.” Tears sprang to his eyes. “How do I thank you?”

Sam grinned, shook his head. “Just be good,” he said, and headed to his rendezvous with Mike and Fi.

*** 

Sam spread his file over Mike and Fiona’s butcher block. “So our problem just got twenty times worse.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he picked through the pile of notes Sam had taken. “Yep. This is one hell of a gherkin, Sam.” Jesse slugged down a mouthful of beer. “What if he’s BSing you?” Jesse asked. 

“You didn’t see the look in his eyes,” said Sam. “The guy looked like he’d been gutshot, talking about his kids.”

“So you’ve got one starving guy putting himself at risk of ending up in lockup ‘cause he wants to defend his kids, and you’ve got a bunch of traumatized kids who won’t get to go to Orlando.” Jesse shrugged. “Where’s the go-round?”

Sam glowered. He sucked on his bottom lip. “Go-round…ROUND.” Then it came to him. “Jess, my man, you’re a bonafide genius.”

“I’m just a man, Sam,” Jesse replied, mock-loftily, 

***

The solution was simple. Sam went to one of his bar-owning buddies, stirred up a simple job offer for Santa tending bar during the week. It wasn’t guaranteed past February, but it would get them through the holidays, was a skill he could likely handle, and something that would keep his kids fed. Then Michael found someone willing to safely bus the kids from Miami to Orlando and Fiona leaned on the good folks at Carlitos to provide them the cocoa and cookies to boot. Jesse found somebody willing to put the entire family up at a hotel for a limited amount of time, with rent eventually coming into play. Sam even had an offer of a free car on the docket, if he needed one.

Finally he waited on Westminster for the guy to approach his usual spot. He was wary, but Sam was warm – and, probably more importantly, he had food.

The tears in the guys’ eyes were enough of a reward for Sam. “But,” said Santa, “how can I thank you?”

“No need to, pal. I’m one of Santa’s helpers, too,” Sam said. 

*** 

“…And that’s that. Hopefully Santa will straighten up and fly right from now on. As for Audrey’s troop, they really thought I was Santa. Turns out six year olds forget pretty easily when candy canes are on the line.” 

Mild laughter cascaded over them. They were gathered over a happy dinner at Fiona’s place, and as Sam spoke he split the money carefully split the money Elsa had given him for settling the case. 

Madeline eyeballed the cut Elsa had sent for her out of generosity, even though she hadn’t participated in the job. She said, “I guess you didn’t really need us on this one, Sam.”

Sam felt the tiniest tug in the pit of his belly. “I’m always gonna need you guys. You’re gonna be with me for the rest of my life,” said Sam. “You’re my brothers and my sisters, and no matter how busy we get and how distracted we become, we’ll always have each other. Sorry for getting sappy on you, Fi.”

“I’m used to it, you sot,” she said. But there was that familiar, teasing tone of hers in the mix, and Sam couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“To us?” Sam asked, raising his champagne.

“To us,” they echoed. Even little Charlie raised his glass of grape juice.

And clicking them together, together they toasted the bright golden sunrise.


End file.
